


Tear In My Heart

by Nevcolleil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Can be read as friendship, Can be read as pre-slash, Episode Related, Gen, M/M, Season 6 episode 2, but I'm leaning towards bromance minus the 'b', the bromance is so strong with these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Scott can't remember who he lost - but now that he realizes he's lost someone - how lost he feels seems to be telling him something.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I soooo wanted to read a version of 'Superposition' that lets Scott be the one to say "I think I love him..." So I went ahead and wrote one :p

Researching the problem doesn’t work - but then, Scott really hadn’t thought that it would.

Research is for things you don’t know, stuff you can’t find - not _people_ that just _aren’t_ anymore.

And Scott isn’t all that good at research anyways; that’s always been Lydia’s job when they find a case, or Mason’s, more than his. He tries all of the tricks they taught him: makes a list of what he does know (which isn’t much); what he thinks he maybe only _thinks_ he knows, but doesn’t really (which is just a, like, _scarily_ long list considering it’s probably more than twice as long as he can make it.) But he has to stop when he thinks back, wondering if he’s put the study board together correctly - his handwritten notes tacked to the wall and linked together with colored string. Scott can’t actually remember Lydia ever sharing her color-coding system with him. And then he pulls up the one memory he has of her standing in front of a wall of evidence, red strings criss-crossing a bedroom that isn’t hers and isn’t his and-

That gut-swooping feeling of _wrongWrongWRONG_ that’s been getting stronger every time Scott’s passed a locked locker that nobody owns - every time he’s poked at a thought he’d mistaken as a memory - makes his head pound and his eyes tingle, his claws itch and his gums swell. 

He writes ‘Did the research’ in shaky print on one of his lists and feels like throwing up or crying.

How long has what’s missing in Scott’s life - _who’s_ been missing - been missing without him _ever even noticing_? Now that he knows, Scott can’t seem to _stop_ noticing, and every little thing scratches at that invisible limb Deaton mentioned.

Falling asleep like Deaton said is Scott’s last resort - not because he doubts what Deaton said about connecting with his subconscious, but because he’s almost as afraid of what it might tell him as what it might not.

All the little things Scott has been realizing are off - all of the little holes in his memory... They don’t feel _little_ to Scott, now that he’s aware of them. They feel- They feel like...

Scott wakes up in the Preserve, deep in the woods in a not unfamiliar clearing. It’s a relief in that Deaton was right and sleep worked - it’s brought him a clue he can’t explain away, that he _can_ share with the others.

It’s also a confirmation of the worst kind.

“I’ve been out here before, and I don’t think I was alone,” Scott says easily enough.

“I know it sounds crazy,” he admits, about most of it, attempting not to say _all_ of it. “But I think I had-” he starts, but then makes himself stop.

‘ _a best friend_ ’ lingers on his lips. A convenient half-truth, half sitting on the tip of his tongue. 

But there’s no _time_ to protect himself from the gnawing at the pit of his stomach. No time to pretend he doesn’t know _exactly_ what he’s missing now that he knows that he’s missing someone, even if he still can’t say who.

No time to pretend he hasn’t felt this - or a version of this, this emptiness - before.

Yeah, the person who was taken from Scott was undoubtedly his friend. His best friend. To be out here with him on the most important night of his life... Right beside him despite the danger and the fear they must have shared. But.

Scott’s lost friends before. The twist he feels, in his chest, each time he realizes he’s realized something else he’d forgotten, isn’t the same that he feels whenever he thinks of Isaac or even Kira. He doesn’t feel the same kind of lonely when he wonders about this person - this person who must’ve meant so much to Scott it feels like _this_ not to have them - as he does when he wonders what Derek’s doing, when they’ll see each other again.

The missing pieces of what he had with this mystery person who shouldn’t be a mystery feel like Allyson’s laugh. Like the moment Scott had realized that he couldn’t remember it any longer, exactly as it’d been. They feel like the exact shade of Allyson’s eyes in the moonlight. The precise pattern of moles down the stretch of her pale neck. 

“I think I love him,” Scott says softly - so softly he’s not sure Lydia can even hear him, not while he’s doing his best not to look at her or Malia right now.

Not to see their doubt or-

“ _I think I know him too_ ,” Lydia says nowhere near as gently - like the words have been waiting to punch out of her. It’s startling enough to snap Scott’s head up, send his pulse rocketing.

Malia’s nodding.

It doesn’t really make things _better_. There is no “better”, Scott thinks, to having someone he must have loved _so_ much just erased from his life almost without a trace.

But there’s a cold comfort in the fact that he’s not the only one who feels the difference. 

It makes him feel like he’s in a better place to start working the problem - having admitted, to his friends and to _himself_ , that he’s not looking for someone who’s been reduced to nothing.

He’s looking for someone who is _everything_. He’s just got to find them to remember why.


End file.
